I, Ferret
by curiouslyfic
Summary: Draco's embraced his inner Ferret. Now it's Harry's turn. Starring Veela!Draco, mpreg, an old wives' tale, and a Weddiwizard.


_Disclaimer: Not mine. You knew that. Belong to Rowling and a host of corporations. You knew that, too. No offense meant, no profit in suing. _

_ Warnings: Slash. Harry/Draco slash. Fluffy, sweet, well-intentioned Harry/Draco slash. Also, erm, Veela!Draco, I suppose. And mpreg. You could make a case for OOC-ness, too, but it's all in the name of fluff, so I'm hoping you'll just play along. And possibly review. _

_Cross-posted on Hex and at my LJ. _

_Thanks, Shadowsamurai, for the beta._

**I, Ferret**_  
_

_I, Ferret_

…and Harry's right back at that night at the Ministry. Ron barks "Oi, Ferret, didn't know they let your sort in here." Malfoy sneers something about weasels until he sees Harry, then smirks "Very pretty look for you, Scarhead, what's the occasion?" Ron sputters about war and heroes as Harry knocks back his Firewhisky and says "Buy me another and I'll tell you." And they're off, Ron's shouting "Get him good, Harry" as 'Mione drags him away. Malfoy's smirk twists and it's connected to something in Harry's gut and Malfoy murmurs "I don't think that'll be a problem, will it, Scarhead?" and there's something different in how he says it…

_D__o take you, Scarhead_

…and it's twenty minutes, three Firewhiskys later. Harry's cornered and consumed by Malfoy's mouth, Malfoy's hands, Malfoy's heat. When Malfoy pulls back a little to breathe, Harry asks "Do all Ferrets kiss that well?" and Malfoy says "No, no, that kind's just for Scarheads" and they both laugh a bit because it's sodding brilliant. And they do it again and again, long past the last of the Firewhisky even though they're supposed to be fighting…

…and it's hours later still, and Harry's on his back, on Malfoy's bed, and Malfoy's mouth is wicked and Malfoy's hands are gifted. Harry thinks it's his burning day. Malfoy groans things like "tight" and "hot" and "good" and "Merlin" and Harry answers things like "harder" and "more" until he can't speak anymore…

_To be my lawful wedded arse_

…and when they catch their breath, Harry says "my turn" and traps Malfoy under him and Merlin, that's good, too, and Malfoy grins open-mouthed and panting, says "well, I suppose if I've a go at your arse, you should have one at mine" and Harry thinks that's the best thing he's heard in _ages_…

…and when they wake, Malfoy's still and silent beside him on the bed, flushed and bruised and _real_, blinking sleepily, mouth working the tastes of overindulgence from his tongue. Harry worries then, because this feels brilliant, too, and brilliant things just don't last in Harry's life. Malfoy's mouth turns sated smile. Fades as he says "Was it just the Firewhisky for you, then?" His eyes narrow, blameless speculation. Harry shakes his head a little because he's gone past speech, Malfoy's pushed him beyond _words_, and Malfoy's breath steadies and his smile's brilliant, too…

…and they're in Harry's bed, limp from their latest round of make-up sex. No doubt the fight that inspired it is already tucked in The Prophet somewhere. Harry's too worn out to care. Malfoy prods his hip. Says, "I think I'm going to have to be right proprietary about your arse, Potter," and Harry has absolutely no problems with that...

…and Ron's telling stories down the Hog's Head. Harry smacks a hand over his face, says, "Merlin, I'm an arse," and Malfoy peers over his pint and says "Yeah, but you're my arse." Ron laughs so hard at Harry's blush he nearly falls off his chair…

_To hex and to heal_

…and Harry's on the train to Hogwarts, sixth year, as Malfoy stomps his nose…

…and Harry's on the Quidditch pitch, third year, hurling a Patronus…

…and Harry's in Malfoy's office a year ago, yelling, "No, no, you can't be, we're both blokes" and Malfoy's yelling back "Part-Veela, you gormless git, so apparently I _can._" Harry raises his wand and Draco raises his. Bat Bogey meets Protego, then Draco spreads a hand over his belly and says "Say what you'd like to me, Potter, I don't care, but you leave _her_out of this." Whatever Draco does to his balls on his way out itches for absolute _ages…_

…and nothing ever feels as good as Malfoy's mouth…

…and Harry's in St. Mungo's ten months later, fighting off Obliviate. Remembers nothing of the past year but they've told him he can't hex Malfoy. Which, he thinks, is a bit of a shame, because Malfoy's right there by his bedside, sure he's sleeping. Malfoy whispers "Merlin, Potter, you can't ever do this again, I can't take it, no one hexes you but me." Strangely, Harry sleeps then, sure Malfoy can do what the Mediwitches can't. Four days later, when his memory returns, he knows why…

…and when Harry first holds his daughter, he's got blue hair and a tail and he can't stop smiling anyway…

_In Sterling_

…and they're in Harrod's. Draco pokes at a plushie doubtfully and Harry braces for the inevitable, the snideness meant to deride the thought that Muggle things are good enough for the next Malfoy heir. Draco says, "I rather liked the ones at Hamley's more," and Harry's flummoxed, speechless again. Kisses him right there in Children's Plushies for this unexpected evolution…

…and Draco calls her Hermione…

…and when they visit Grimmauld, Draco sneers Mrs. Black into submission when she starts in on bloodlines because there's no point anymore. That life's dead. That tradition disappeared with the Death Eater perversion…

…and Draco knows the best place for takeaway curry and Harry knows the best place for takeaway chips and Draco's so fucking edible in jeans, Harry calls him takeaway Malfoy and that just makes Draco wear them more…

…and they're at tea with Dudley. Draco's big as a house, murder to get him outdoors anymore. There all the same. Dudley's not said a word about it. Draco offers his hand. Dudley takes it. Harry's not even sure what he feels, just knows it's too big for pride in them both…

_In Knuts_

…and they're in a field by what's left of Godric's Hollow. Harry thinks it might be best to just blast the house and rebuild completely, because they'll drain a vault restoring it to something he doesn't even really remember. Draco squeezes his hand. Says they have vaults to drain, a Manor to sell if needs be, Harry's past is their future, yeah? Harry clutches the grass because words aren't enough, are never enough…

_In Quidditch_

…and they're in fifth year, and Harry makes Malfoy bleed into the pitch…

…and they're in first year, and Malfoy smirks over a Remembrall…

…and they're in sixth year, and Harry doesn't want to play if Malfoy's not going to…

…and they're at Ron's, watching the Kestrals crucify the Cannons, and Draco's not gloating, not even a little…

…and they're in the yard at rebuilt Godric's Hollow, and the baby's sleeping and they're flying and fighting and kissing…

…and mostly it's kissing, no matter who gets the Snitch…

_In Wheeze_

…and Harry's four years old again. Hermione explains just how the Childhood Chews have gone wrong. The big tall blond man nods. Mutters about Skiving Snackboxes being demon things far too tempting for the average Gryffindor. Hands Harry a stuffed dragon. Reads a bedtime story. Brews a remedy while Harry sleeps. When Harry's not four years old again anymore, he apologizes for testing Wheezes without telling Draco. Draco laughs a little, brushes the hair off Harry's face. Kisses his forehead, and it's okay, Draco's not mad…

…and sometimes, now that the baby's born, Draco helps test them, too, even those sweets that turned them both into girls for an hour…

…and Draco wears an old Weasley jumper with an H until Molly makes him one of his own. Draco wears that, too, not just at Christmas, and when she makes one for the baby, Draco packs it away safe. It's the third thing his daughter ever wears…

…and Ginny hexes Draco's hair purple that first Christmas. Charlie hexes him dragon's wings. Gred hexes him horns and a tail. Draco smirks his way through it, then murmurs to himself. They spend the rest of the day with glowing, singing freckles…

_In gitness_

…and Harry's proposing and even Harry knows it's not a terribly good proposal. Draco's brow lifts. Harry's sure he'll say no because really, what sort of person thinks, "So, you were a Malfoy when you lived at Malfoy Manor, and you're living at Godric's Hollow now, so, erm, wanna be a Potter, then?" is at all worthy of what they have. Doesn't even make sense, really, because wouldn't that make him a Godric? Draco says, "Git," like that's Harry's name, like they're home alone instead of sitting in Neville's yard at a party, voice all soft and sweet and un-Slytherin. Draco kisses him. Rolls his eyes and kisses him again…

_In eggs_

…and Harry's sure Draco should _look_ pregnant or something. He's trying to be supportive, really he is, but none of this makes sense. They're blokes. And they sort of hate each other, don't they? And it was really only that once after the Ministry. And where the sod was _this _in CoMC, anyway? Harry'd like to know, doesn't remember a thing about_this _anywhere in his schooling. So he channels Hermione-calm. Says "You're having my egg?" Draco snorts. "That's an old wives' tale, that. Not even male Veela lay eggs." Well, Harry thinks, Draco'd know…

…and the day after the baby's home, Harry wakes to an egg on the pillow where Draco's head should be. The note beneath it says, "Play with your egg, Scarhead, I'll play with our daughter." Signed "Ferret". Harry finds them in the nursery, blond man and pink girl, and they both look so peaceful he can't believe this is his life…

…and the second time he tries to propose, he says, "Want to have my eggs?" Draco laughs and laughs, and Harry thinks that was a shitty proposal, too. Tries to say, "Not the breakfast kind," but Draco steals his words with a look. Gestures him close. When Harry's biting his lip, certain he's revived the Malfoy scorn, Draco says, "I said yes last time, which is probably for the best, because I think your proposals are getting worse."…

…and Harry keeps the egg in his trunk until it smells manky. Draco finds it. Teaches Harry the Charm to turn it crystal. Harry keeps it on the dresser in their bedroom, safe out of their daughter's reach…

_From this day forward_

…and Harry's 11, in Madam Malkin's; and he's 12, in the Slytherin Common Room; and he's 13, watching Hermione take a swing; and he's 14, watching badges blink; and he's 15, facing Umbridge's squad; and he's 16, in the Astronomy Tower watching a wand lower; and he's 17, flying out of a fire; and he's 25, in that corner at the Ministry; and he's 37, putting their baby on the train; and he's 94, sleeping in that field by the Hollow; and he's 132, blowing candles out on his cake; and he's 1,000 years gone, pranking Peeves in the new Hogwarts; and every time he looks, there's blond hair and grey eyes and a Slytherin smile beside him…

_And death won't us part_

…and he can't breathe, can't think, can't speak, can't move, because Draco's giving him _forever._ Harry's never had _forever_ in anything. Can't believe he'll get it in this. Good things never last in his life, but this will. _This will_. Draco's promised…

_With this ring_

…and Harry's back as he should be, before a hundred guests and Rita Skeeter's quill. Something smoothsilvercold slides onto his finger, and the hand moving it feels warm and safe and comfortable against his. Neville's smiling over Draco's shoulder. Pansy's biting her lip and tearing up. He can hear Ron shushing 'Mione behind him. Can hear their baby clapping from Molly's lap. Harry thinks he might explode, or maybe faint for a bit, because what he's feeling can't be contained in a human body, Wizard or Muggle…

_I thee wed_

…and he's married.

To Draco.

Who's still waiting for Harry to say his own vows.

Harry really wishes he'd let 'Mione help write some. Knows he can't do anything near what Draco has, so he closes his eyes to seal the moment in, then glances up at the Weddiwizard and says, "Yeah, what he said." Draco's laughing, "Git," as Harry slides his ring on. The Weddiwizard's saying something about improprieties and traditions, but Harry's already kissing Draco. Has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

And every anniversary, the card beneath the egg by his pillow reads, "Yeah, what he said. Enjoy your egg, Scarhead."

And every time he gets one, he still laughs and cries and can't speak for a minute because they'd lived those vows, those famous, infamous vows, ages before they'd said them and they still were.

And when he's calmed himself, he Charms the egg crystal and puts it up with its mates. Goes to find his.

And every time he touches his ring with his thumb, every time he toys with it in nerves, he hears Draco say, "I, Ferret…" And he's right back that first night at the Ministry…

fin


End file.
